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pupsec · 3 months ago

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𐔌 、sasuke　ﾉ　you find yourself paired with sasuke, whose sharingan flares uncontrollably around you 𓈒　◟

cw: sexual tension ノ mutual pining ノ Sasuke being emotionally repressed but physically reactive ノexplicit content ノdark themes ϑϱ

He noticed you before you noticed him.

The new girl—quiet, polite, always scribbling notes like the world would fall apart if you missed a single word. You sat near the back, tucked into a desk that creaked when you shifted, always careful not to take up space. You apologized when someone bumped into you. Bowed your head when spoken to.

But Sasuke had seen you.

Not just with his eyes. Not just as one more civilian girl stuck in a shinobi class. No—his body reacted first. Subtle. Wrong.

The first time you were paired together for a sparring demo, he didn’t think much of it. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his fingers, prepared to disarm and pin you like he would anyone else.

You, standing across the mat, looked like you didn’t belong. Your stance was careful but timid, knees bent, hands curled in soft fists like you weren’t sure if you should hit him even if ordered to.

And still—still—

The moment your eyes met his—

Click.

Sharingan.

He felt it burn behind his lashes. The heat curled up his spine, sharp and visceral, like his blood recognized you before his brain did. His muscles tensed, his breath hitched. He blinked once, hard, trying to suppress the activation, but the red glow remained. Spinning. Steady.

“Sasuke,” Kakashi said from the sidelines, arms crossed, voice firm. “Stand down. Eyes off.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Sasuke muttered.

He hadn’t. That was the worst part.

You hadn’t even touched him yet.

And you—gods, your eyes were wide, full of worry, not fear. “Are you okay?” you whispered, stepping back instead of forward. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He blinked.

You were worried about him?

The match was called off early.

He didn’t say a word as you bowed and shuffled back to your seat, clutching your sleeves. He didn’t even look up when Naruto made some dumb comment about “getting turned on in a fight.” He just sat in stunned silence.

Because his Sharingan had never reacted like that before.

And the second time?

It was even worse.

You were assigned to sit next to him for a paired scroll analysis—nothing physical, nothing strenuous, just reading and translating seal logic from a captured scroll. You barely said a word. You just leaned in, close, your shoulder brushing his, your hair smelling faintly of chamomile.

And again—

Click.

That soft pulse of chakra behind his eyes. The pull of it.

He swore under his breath and pressed two fingers to his temple.

“You okay?” you asked again, voice smaller than last time. “You keep… looking at me like something’s wrong.”

He looked down at you—really looked—and his chest tightened.

Because no, nothing was wrong. Nothing had ever felt so vividly right.

Too right.

He was on edge the whole time, and you noticed. You chewed your lip as you worked. Tilted your head and asked if he needed a break. Every time you leaned in to whisper something, every time your hand brushed his arm, his Sharingan flared.

He lied and said it was fatigue.

But it wasn’t.

It was you.

Kakashi cornered him after class.

“Sasuke.”

“Hm.”

“You’re too reactive.”

“I know.”

“Your Sharingan’s not just reading danger. It’s reading something else.”

Sasuke said nothing.

Kakashi's gaze sharpened. “Be careful with her.”

Sasuke didn’t argue.

Because he had been. Every time. Every class, every spar, every moment he felt you getting closer. He kept his hands to himself. He didn't say the things he wanted to say—like how the way you curled your hands in your sleeves made him ache, or how he dreamed once of your voice in his ear and woke up panting, half-hard, eyes glowing red in the dark.

He didn’t understand it. Not fully.

But his body knew.

And when you looked up at him across the classroom the next morning, lip caught between your teeth, eyes hopeful and unsure, he had to look away before the glow gave him away again.

You started noticing things, too. How Sasuke always seemed too still around you. How his hands flexed when you got too close. How his eyes flashed that eerie, beautiful red even when there was no threat, no danger—just you handing him a brush, just you brushing his sleeve by accident in the hallway, just you whispering his name when you didn’t understand something.

It happened in the training field first. You’d been partnered for drills again. The kind where one person runs through a jutsu and the other disarms. Easy enough.

Except nothing was easy with him anymore.

Because the moment he caught your wrist—just your wrist—his eyes snapped red. And you felt it like a wave, like heat straight through your gut, like a pressure point between your legs that didn’t belong to any nerve textbook.

You gasped. His grip tightened. Then he let go like you’d burned him. He turned away, silent.

But you couldn’t stop looking.

“Why does it always happen around me?” you asked him, the words tumbling out, half breathless, half desperate. “Your Sharingan. It never turns off when we’re close.”

He looked at you then, like he’d been waiting for you to ask. Like he wanted to answer.

“You’re the first person who’s ever made me feel like this,” he said.

And that’s how you ended up here.

In his apartment. On his bed. Stripped to your thighs, your skirt pushed up, your breath stuttering against his mouth while he laid you out beneath him like a secret he’d been aching to touch.

His eyes glowed red above you.

Spinning. Ravenous.

You moaned just looking at them.

“Does it scare you?” he murmured, his voice low, brushing against your lips.

You shook your head. “No.”

“I see everything with these,” he whispered. “Every twitch. Every tremble. Every time your body begs.”

You whimpered.

He kissed you hard.

Then he dragged his hands down your sides—calloused, reverent—until they slid under your thighs and pushed them apart. You trembled beneath him, naked from the waist down now, your panties discarded somewhere on the floor, your cunt slick and throbbing in the open air.

Sasuke looked down at you like he was starving.

The Sharingan spun faster.

“You’re so wet.”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“No,” he snapped. “Look at me.”

You obeyed. Eyes wide. Cheeks burning. You were already breathing too fast.

“I want to see you when you cum,” he said, voice like gravel and thunder. “I need to.”

And then he thrust inside you.

You screamed—a raw, broken sound, pleasure burning hot and deep, your walls stretching around him with sweet, aching pressure. He filled you completely, his cock thick, hot, veined, dragging against every tender place inside you that you didn’t know existed.

He growled against your neck. “So tight. So perfect.”

You clung to him, shaking. “Sasuke—fuck—it’s too much—”

“No,” he rasped, dragging his hips back and slamming in again. “It’s not enough. I’ve waited too long.”

He set a rhythm, brutal and precise—his hips snapping forward, again and again, driving into you while you sobbed his name against his jaw. His hands gripped your thighs, pinning you open. You felt exposed. Owned. The Sharingan flared brighter, and he groaned like it was feeding off you, off your pleasure, off the way your body clenched around him.

“I can see every fucking twitch,” he groaned, pounding harder. “Every time you get close. You want to cum already?”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Then cum.”

You shattered.

Your body locked up, your cunt spasming around him so hard it knocked the breath from your lungs. You screamed his name again—“Sasuke!”—while your orgasm ripped through you, pulsing hot and endless.

But he didn’t stop.

He kept fucking you, harder now, chasing his own release.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” he snarled, voice raw. “Gonna cum so deep you feel it for days.”

“Do it,” you begged. “Please—please cum—”

His hips slammed forward one last time—and he groaned loud and low as he came, cock twitching deep in your soaked, spasming cunt, hot cum spilling inside you, leaking down your thighs. His Sharingan flickered, glowing blinding for a moment as he groaned your name like it was a prayer.

And then he collapsed over you, breathing ragged.

You were still shaking. Still full.

Still glowing from the inside out.

And when he finally lifted his head, his eyes were dark again.

But he was still watching you like he’d never seen anything more dangerous—or more precious—in his life.